


Revelation

by nonomo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonomo/pseuds/nonomo
Summary: As Jon grows closer to Daenerys and her dragons Tyrion starts to wonder about who Jon Snow really is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I suck at summaries and naming stories, writing, and editing so forgive my terribleness.

It had been an unexpectedly calm journey since they had left White Harbor two days ago. The weather was cold but clear and they were making good time. Their biggest problem had been a broken wagon wheel and a needless argument between two Northern Lords on where they would set up camp. But still Tyrion was troubled. An unsettling thought, more of an unanswerable question really, had wormed its way into his head and like an untreated wound it had begun to fester. 

Tyrion always knew his mind was his greatest asset. He would never be a great swordsman like his brother. No one would ever look upon him in awe of his beauty like so many did with his sister. Nor would he ever be the intimidating and commanding presence his father was. 

But a mind could do so much more. A quick mind could cut down more men than any single sword and change the fate of entire kingdoms. A great mind could solve problems before they even existed, it could make sense of the nonsensical. The world was filled with problems, puzzles to be solved. Kings and Queens and their wars were the greatest of these puzzles and solving them was more intoxicating than any drink. 

But there was one puzzle Tyrion had not yet been able to unravel and it unnerved him. 

Jon Snow. 

Tyrion lifted his wine cup to his lips and watched as the man in question walked with his Queen across an open field towards her two hulking dragons. Nearly everyone in the Queens host had stopped as well bringing the march north to a grinding halt in order to watch the ridiculous scene play out in front of them. 

He had protested of course, any fool could see it was a stupid idea. He had warned that if it failed it would do nothing but draw a rift between her and her Northern allies. But Daenerys had insisted, telling him she knew what she was doing and he had relented, she was the Queen after all. It was then he had started to worry and the troubling thought first seeped into his mind. 

So he watched, preparing for the worst, puzzling out he could possibly regain the Northerners trust after they watched their King get eaten alive by a dragon. He sighed heavily, what a stupid idea this was. Why now? And why in front of everyone?

Even from this distance he could see that they walked too closely together as if they couldn’t bear to be apart. The Unsullied and Dothraki hardly cared but rumors were already starting the spread amongst the Northern Lords that had joined them at White Harbor. Rumors he would need to squash until they at least arrived at Winterfell. Until the the men and woman of the North could see with their own eyes the might of Daenerys armies and power of her dragons. By then it wouldn’t matter if they thought their King had been seduced by a foreign Queen.

There was little he could do now but watch as the dragons welcomed them, unraveling themselves from the curled forms they took when they rested. Then Daenerys did something he had never seen her do before, she laughed. Not a smirk, or a slight chuckle, but a joyous thing that consumed her whole body. Her grin was wide and white, her eyes lighting up at something Jon had said or did, from this distance he could not tell. Jon quickly followed suit. His back was to Tyrion but he could see his fur lined cloak rising up and down as he chuckled. Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. Even the fucking dragons seemed to be in on the joke as they huffed out hot air through their noses and the spiny frills on their necks bristled. 

Jon Snow had slipped into Daenerys life as if he had always belonged there.

Tyrion sat up and leaned out the window of his carriage as he peered over the field watching as Rhaegal dipped his head. He had seen the act a dozens of times before, everytime Daenerys mounted Drogon. He watched shocked as the Bastard of Winterfell slowly climbed up onto the back of the majestic beast. Daenerys followed suit sliding in closely behind him, her hands wrapping tightly around his chest. They shared another laugh at an unheard joke and stupid happy smiles broke out on their stupid beautiful faces. 

And just like that they were in the air. Drogon lifted off behind them to follow and the question in Tyrion's head demanded to be answered. 

The bastard of Winterfell, A steward of the Night's Watch. Lord Commander. Oathbreaker. King in the North. And now Dragonrider. Tyrions eyes followed the fading shape of the dragon until it disappeared into the clouds. It didn’t make any sense. 

Jon’s Snow rise to Lord Commander was unprecedented but not unbelievable. Things moved fast during war and the Night’s Watch were always at war. Being named King of the North was another thing entirely. He had left the Night’s Watch, which meant the North should have took his head but instead they named him King. 

What troubled him most wasn’t Jon Snow’s titles or even the Night’s Watch oaths he had must have broke, those could be explained away by a kingdom desperate for a strong leader. It was what he just saw that couldn’t be so easily brushed aside. 

He looked into his drink, the red liquid swirling in his cup. Then up to the man whom he shared his carriage with. 

“What do you know of Jon Snow,” Tyrion asked. 

Varys regarded him with a raised eyebrow before glancing out the window and up towards the clouds.

“I know the Queen is quite smitten with him.”

“Was it the two weeks of constant fucking on that boat that tipped you off?” Tyrion replied. 

Varys smirked, “The way she looks at him when she thinks no one is watching. It might be a wonderful thing or a terrible one but I do believe it is more than just fucking.”

Tyrion snorted and rolled his eyes and took another drink. 

“What is it exactly do you wish to know My Lord?” Varys asked. 

“How does the Night's Watch oath go again?” 

Varys smiled cluing into Tyrion's meaning. “Something about no glory, no lands and no crowns I do believe.” 

“Aren’t you at least curious why the North would name a bastard oathbreaker King?” 

“I’m curious about everything My Lord, but have heard nothing but rumors on such topic.” 

Tyrion took a another drink. “Such as?” 

“That he broke no oaths.” 

More knife to the heart nonsense. Tyrion thinks for a moment before asking the question he really wanted to ask. “And what of his mother?”

It was Varys time to snort, “Ah the mystery that is the Bastard of Winterfell. I fear Ned Stark took that secret to his grave.” 

“So you know nothing?” 

Varys shrugged, “War is hard on men, even ones as noble as Ned Stark. How harshly can you judge a man who seeks out comfort in times of need?” 

“No rumors of who she might be? The King of the North would be most grateful and so would the Queen if we could help him find his long lost mother.” 

“A tavern wench most likely. But there were other rumors of course.” 

“More rumors.” Tyrion stated plainly. Rumors like Jon Snow coming back from the dead. He was tired of rumors. 

“We know little of what happened to Lord Stark after the sacking of King's Landing, only that he helped lift the siege of Storm’s End and then went south. He appeared at Starfall then returned to Winterfell with bastard in hand. There were of course whispers that Ned Stark was quite taken with Ashara Dayne.”

“She was quite the beauty,” Tyrion said of Ashara, “many men were infatuated with her.”

Tyrion pondered it for a moment, thinking of what he knew of Robert's Rebellion, Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne. It didn’t add up, there wasn’t enough time too much distance between the supposed lovers. 

“But there was no time for that, I do not think.” Varys added as if reading his thoughts. “So some tavern wench. Robert surely had more than enough of them around to spare for his closest friend.”

He thought back, running through what he knew of Ned's Starks travels during the rebellion in his head. The Battle of the Bells, his marriage to Catelyn Tully at Riverrun, the Battle of the Trident. Then the sacking of King's Landing and his journey south to save his sister. 

Lyanna Stark. 

A babe wasn’t the only thing he had returned to Winterfell with, he also had the body of his beloved sister. His sister that been kidnapped and raped by Rhaegar Targaryen.

 

Blood of the Dragon. Rhaegar Targaryen. It hit him like a punch to the gut. So simple, so obvious but no it couldn’t be possible. Stories like that were reserved for tales to tell children, made up nonsense in enthral the young. A secret Targaryen hidden in the north for two decades only to become King. That would be ridiculous. He leaned out the carriage window and for once was thankful for the bitingly cold air on his face

Every so often he could see Drogon in Rhaegal in the sky, a wing or tail cutting through the clouds. He had touched the dragons once, unchaining them from where they were kept under the Great Pyramid of Meereen. Fierce beasts of myth and legend and yet Rhaegal acted more like a happy puppy when Jon had approached than the terrifying creature he had encountered under the pyramid. 

He stared intently at the blue sky. His mind running over the possibilities. Was that the answer to his question? It was ridiculous but it fit. It all fit. The proof flying a thousand feet above him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes and ignored the questioning look from Varys. 

He finished his cup and shook his head. It wasn’t not possible. 

 

-

 

They were camped somewhere in Barrowlands just west of the Kings Road. They had joined with the rest of the Queen's armies north of Moat Cailin and the size of their host had swelled slowing their progress. Tyrion pulled his cloak around him tighter hoping to keep out the chill. The further they pushed north the colder the winds became. 

“I had not expected you to be alone Your Grace,” Tyrion lied standing near the entrance to Daenerys tent. Just moments before he had seen Jon helping set up tents on the far side of camp. He knew he had time. 

Daenerys eyed him suspiciously. Then turned back at the plate of food she had barely touched 

“You warned us to be discreet did you not?” 

Tyrion did his best not to laugh or roll his eyes. Discreet? If they were any less discreet they would be out fucking each other on top of his carriage. Instead he simply nodded. 

“And how is the King in the North's-” he paused, “training going?” 

At this Daenerys smiled. “Rhaegal is taking to him quickly,” there was a far off look in her eyes when she spoke as if she is remembering some fond memory and Tyrion had to hold back a groan. She is in love with him. He swallows hard thinking maybe he should just let this issue die but he’s too curious to see if she knows anything more, and to what her reaction will be when he tells her. He tells himself that it is his duty as her Hand to be honest in all things and pushes on. 

“Before we reach Winterfell there are some things I must ask.” 

Daenerys raised a brow, pushed her fork through her uneaten food then turned to Tyrion. “Then ask,” 

“When you first met Jon Snow Davos said something that you were curious about.” 

Daenerys stiffened slightly in her seat, a sad look crossing her face for a moment before she recovered. 

“A knife to the heart I believe he said,” Tyrion continued. 

Daenerys nodded and looked away from him. 

“I know you and Jon has become quite close, and was wondering maybe you have unraveled that mystery yourself.” 

She sat there for a moment before turning to him. “It’s not my story to tell.” she said firmly and he knew better not to push. “But if you are worrying about the Northern Lords thinking Jon an oath breaker you need not.” 

Tyrion nodded and took a breath, “one more thing before I leave you if you will Your Grace.” 

She looked back to the fire but nodded. 

“Has he ever spoken about his parents to you?” 

She hadn’t been expecting that question and it showed in her face as she turned back to look at him. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” she said her face turned up in a scowl. “I am well aware he was born out of wedlock and I think I made self clear the last time we spoke of this that I do not care what the idiot southern lords might say or think when they see him at my side.” 

“It’s not that my queen,” Tyrion replied apologetic, he could still remember the heated words she had thrown his way the last time he had tried to bring up how southerners would react seeing her with a bastard. “Just please indulge me.” 

Daenerys sighed. 

“He has spoke of his father,” she said softly, and Tyrion felt like he was forcing himself into an intimate conversation he did not belong in. “He knows nothing of his mother. Why do you ask?” 

Tyrion considered his next words carefully. “You said Rhaegal has been taken to him quiet nicely. Jon even rides him alone now with you and Drogon at his side.”

She can’t stop the grin that tugs on her lips. 

“You know dragon lore better than anyone My Grace. Has there ever been a dragonrider without the blood of old Valyria coursing through their veins?” 

Daenerys brow furrowed for a minute as she put the meaning behind his words together. “No,” she whispered. “You think his mother was Valyrian? Who?” she leaned forward her eyes wide, “House Velaryon?” she asked. “Some unknown Targaryen bastard girl?” 

Daenerys stood, walked toward the fire then looked back at him shocked. “That would,” she stopped, her mind raced a mile a minute. “You think his mother was Targaryen?” she repeated. 

Tyrion shook his head, “No, I do not.” 

“Then what?” 

“I think his father was.” 

“Ned Stark wasn’t- “ Daenerys paused. “Not in the three hundred years my family ruled the Westeros has the Starks and Targaryens joined their houses. There’s no Targaryen or Valyrian blood in the Starks. Ned Stark wasn’t a Targaryen.” she eyed him suspiciously, “Although now I’m more curious to how much wine my Hand has drank tonight?” she jested trying to lighten the mood. 

Tyrion pursed his lips. “In all honestly I don’t know that much about Ned Stark. He was a noble man. To a fault. His honour so great it got him killed. Did you know that when he saw what Tywin had done to your niece and nephew he called for Robert to take my father's head? It almost started another war and destroyed his friendship with Robert.” 

Daenery shook her head, “I did not,” she said softly. 

“As Hand of the King he even refused Roberts demands to send assassins to murder you and your brother in Essos after you married Drogo. He stepped down as Hand and was preparing to take his family back North when everything went to shit.” 

“My brother had told me he was nothing more than the usurpers loyal dog.” Daenerys said sadly, before exhaling quickly a laugh almost escaping her throat. “I can only imagine what Viserys would think if he saw me now. “ she looked over at the bed that she and Jon shared. “He was so wrong about so many things. Ned Stark seemed like a good man.” 

“He was,” Tyrion replied, “He was better than most. Not the type of man you would think would father a bastard.” 

That got Daenerys attention as she turned to face him. Her wide eyes darted behind him at the tent's entrance as if to make sure Jon wouldn’t walk in on the conversation. 

“You don’t think Ned Stark is Jon’s father, is that what all of this is about?” she asked in a hushed whisper. 

Tyrion gave his next words careful thought knowing what they would mean to his Queen, to all of Westeros if true. 

“All I know is that after the sacking of King’s Landing Ned Stark left and headed south to find his sister. A sister that had been kidnapped by your brother Rhaegar a year prior. Shortly after, Ned Stark returned to Winterfell with the Lyanna’s body and a baby boy in hand.” 

Tyrion could see the colour drain from Daenerys face. 

“Nobody knows what happened for sure. Why Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna, where he took her, where they both disappeared to during that critical time during the start of the rebellion. War is hell and it drives men to do things they wouldn’t normally do, even men as noble as Ned Stark so when he returned home with a bastard boy nobody gave it a second thought.” he added. 

Daenery stared at him intently. 

“So you think Jon Snow is my brothers son, a Targaryen, my nephew.” 

Tyrion shrugged. “I have given it a great deal of thought and it explains so many things.” 

“No,” she shook her head, “It’s absurd. It would-” Daenerys pausing and swallowing hard, and Tyrion swore he heard her voice falter, “It would destroy him.” she said softly. “He loves his family, he loves his father.” 

“He’d still be a Stark,” 

Daenerys stared long and hard at the bed across from them. “He would- What would he think-” she stopped herself unable to say the words blinking back tears before she looked away and towards the fire. 

Tyrion frowned, she didn’t have to say the words. What would Jon Snow think if he learned he was bedding his aunt. 

“He would still love you Daenerys,” Tyrion said softly, “Nothing would change that,” 

“Are you so sure?” Her gaze shifted back to him, looking at him sideways.

Daenerys shook her head and wiped her face with her palm. “Without proof none of this means anything, just idle thoughts of someone bored on a long journey ” she shook her head again reassuring herself and stood. 

“The dragons Your Grace.” Tyrion replied as if that was all the proof he needed. 

She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Her lips pulled tight to form a tight line across her face. She shook her head. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly, almost pleading. “Not right now, not here. You should go before-” 

As if on cue they heard the crunch of snow under foot just outside her tent. Tyrion watched as his Queen quickly composed herself. They both turned to see Jon open the flap of the tent, stopping and looking at both of them. 

Tyrion bowed slightly to his Queen, “Your grace.” and made his way out. Jon nodded at him.

“Tyrion,” Daenerys called out before he left, “Thank you for your council.”

He nodded back at his Queen, and left the tent wondering if he had done the right thing. 

 

-

 

Daenerys wiped her eyes discreetly as Jon turned and watched Tyrion go and then tied the opening of her tent closed. She let him take a few steps into the tent before she closed the distance between them, standing on her toes to gently kiss him. 

“You were gone long.” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She regarded him carefully. 

“Miss me already my Queen,” he smiled back her and she felt her heart skip a beat. “Some of the men were having troubles with their tents. Not used to the snow yet,” 

She nodded accepting his answer and pulled them closer to the brazier that warmed the enclosure. She reached up and with nimble fingers began working to unstrap his leather armor and cloak. When she was done she reached up to hold his jaw, her fingers stroking his cheeks as she took him in with Tyrion's words in mind. 

Her eyes searched his, hunting for any truth in them. His nose, his chin, his lips. The lips that had kissed nearly every inch of her body. She couldn’t stop the warmth from pooling between her legs as her desire for him grew. She shook away those thoughts, there were more important things at hand. She did not see any Targaryen in him, but in truth she had only known her brother. What did she know of what a Targaryen should look like. 

“What is it?” Jon asked her softly bringing his his own hand to push back errant strand of hair behind her ear. 

If Tyrion was right- She took a deep breath and her eyes searched his, she saw worry cross his features. What would he think if it was true? Their relationship would be tame by Targaryen standards, her own father and mother being siblings, but to a Stark, to the North? Would he feel disgust when he looked at her, would he think the things they had done perverse and wrong. 

How would he react to learn his father wasn’t Ned Stark but a man that kidnapped and raped his mother. That he was born from something so terrible. That his mother might have never of wanted him. Never loved him. Her stomach sank and she could feel the tears well up in her eyes. 

If Tyrion was right it would mean she wasn’t the last of her house. The Targaryen line could live on through him, but that would mean giving him up, pushing him into the arms of another woman. Someone who could give him the children she could not. 

She felt a tear run down her face so she buried her face into Jon’s chest hoping he hadn’t seen. She held back a sob as his arms encircled her body holding her close. He walked them to her bed, sitting them both down on the feather stuffed mattress. She felt his hand brush through her hair as he simply held her. 

She could only imagine what he thought, finding her in this state. SIlently she cursed herself for being so emotional, she cursed Tyrion for bringing this up. Nothing good could come from this. 

When she felt herself calm she pulled her head away and looked up at him and before he could speak and ask her what was wrong she sat up and captured his lips. 

He tasted of sweet wine and salt. She started slow at first, but she felt the fire in her belly grow and couldn’t stop herself from deepening the kiss pushing her tongue against his own. He moaned as she leaned into him lifting herself to straddle his lap and pushing him back onto the bed. 

Her movements became desperate, needy as she pulled at his clothes. Deep down she knew Tyrion's words were true as soon as he had said them. It had made sense. She was cursed. She had lost her son, her husband, her dragon. Eventually she would lose everything she loved, why would Jon be any different. But for right now she could have him and she would. 

A moan escaped her lips when she finally removed enough layers of clothes to feel his flesh against her own. Jon dragged himself fully onto the bed and she followed not allowing their bodies to separate. She felt him hard underneath her, his own hands freeing her from her coat and undergarments. His hands sliding around her waist behind her back and lower holding her tight. 

She groaned into his mouth reached between their bodies and found him hard and waiting. Moaning she sank down onto him, his hands sliding up and down her back as she began to move. 

“Dany,” Jon gasped hoarsely against her ear and she felt tears well up in her eyes again and this time she couldn’t hold them back. She buried her face into the crook of his neck pressing her body as close as she could to him and rode him until she came convulsing around him. 

She held onto him tightly not wishing to move, not wanting this to end. She could feel his heartbeat under her and she let out a soft sigh. 

“Will you stay here tonight?” she whispered softly into his neck. Northern Lords and their rumors be damned. 

“I will,” Jon whispered back. She tensed squeezing into him as she felt his hands leave her body only to relax as he pulled a fur lined blanket over them. 

Daenerys swallowed hard lifting herself up to look at him, watching as his dark somber eyes searched hers for a reason behind her current emotional state. But he did not push her, he did not ask her questions she did not have the answers for. He brought a hand to her face wiping the tears from her cheek and just held her.

Her home wasn’t Dragonstone, or King's Landing, or even that house she grew up in in Braavos. It was here with him. 

“I love you,” she whispered softly, watching his eyes as they lit up. She kissed him gently and felt his smile against her lips and she knew he loved her too. Her lips turned up in a matching smile and the part of her that knew Tyrion was right knew it wouldn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a huge amount of knowledge on the timing of Roberts Rebellion and the locations of all the characters during that time. Or how much people like Tyrion and Varys know about what happened at the Tower of Joy. So I kinda just went with what I could remember and skimmed the wikia and assumed a bunch of stuff =) 
> 
> I just had the idea of Tyrion figuring out R+L=J on his own once he had reason to think about it cause really it's not that hard to figure out. This is what I ended up with. Was thinking of a sequel of where Dany brings it up with Jon. But I have a lot of other stupid ideas in my head too so I don't know if or when I'll get around to it. Comment and kudos are appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally part of a single longer chapter but I have been having troubles finishing a few scenes near the end so I decided to cut it up into two smaller parts. Not much happens and it's kinda an extended scene from last chapter but it stands alone pretty well.   
> No editor / beta reader so forgive my terrible grammar.  
> Hope you enjoy.

It had been three days since Tyrion had climbed into her carriage and opened her eyes to a truth that was so plainly in front of her. Three nights where she had asked Jon to stay with her until the sun rose and three nights that he had. She knew it would not help quell the growing rumors that spread amongst the Northern Lords. That there had been whispers about them in the North since Jon arrived at Dragonstone. She knew Tyrion would consider it unwise but Daenerys did not care. 

A part of her still refused to believe it. That Jon was her brothers secret son, her blood. She did not want to believe it. She still thought it was a preposterous notion but so were the dragons flying above them and the army of dead that marched to kill them. 

So she told herself it did not matter. What is truth when there is no proof. Anyone who could possibly know had been long since buried. It would be nothing but more rumors, like how the foreign Queen seduced the King in the North into bending the knee. She told herself that rumors did not matter, that no one would act on rumors alone. 

The North would not turn on their King. Jon would not turn on her. But the slight doubt she could not shake made her feel ill. 

They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the last three days. She would awake before him and let herself melt into his comforting embrace, their shared warmth cocooning her from the cold bitter winter winds. There alone with her thoughts she would wish it would never end, that they could go back to the boat but she knew that was not possible. They are only a few days from Cerwyn Castle and with favourable weather they would reach Winterfell a day after that. 

She finds watching him sleep, watching his chest rise and fall with slow steady movements peaceful, it calms her. Until it doesn’t. Mornings are dangerous things, too much time to ponder things better left ignored. Too much time for her thoughts to turn sour and chip away from the confidence she has when his arms are around her, when his lips are kissing her, when their bodies are joined. 

She thinks it's guilt or even fear that makes her stomach turn, makes her nauseous enough she worries she might spill the contents of her stomach over the side of the bed. But like all the other mornings she bites those feelings back. She slides up his body, rubbing herself against him, kissing her way to his mouth until he wakes with a smile on his face. 

His touch makes her whimper. His hands make her shudder. His lips make her forget. 

When her body calms she is lies lightly on top of him, loose and relaxed. His hands wrapped around her holding her so close she wants to weep. She is never this emotional, so attached. She is coming undone.

Tyrion has noticed, his pointed looks at their daily meetings tell her so. Jon knows it as well. She can see the concern in his eyes, but he does not bring it up. He doesn’t push her, ask her questions she doesn’t know how to answer. He is giving her time and space and she thinks that makes it even worse. 

“Do you ever think of her,” she asks softly into his chest and regrets it almost immediately. What a stupid question. 

“Her?” Jon responds gruffly. 

Daenerys closed her eyes. They had talked about his family, his siblings, his father. They had talked about her time growing up in Braavos. How she and her Viserys had fled.   
How living on the run and in constant fear changed her brother, turning him impatient and cruel. They had talked about losing her child and husband. They had talked him losing his life by the hands of his brothers at Castle Black. But they had never talked about her. 

“Your mother.” 

She can feel him tense slightly underneath her, his hands pausing the small circles he had been tracing over her bare back with the tips of his fingers. She misses the feeling and can’t help but wonder how poorly she will handle losing him. 

“I used to,” he replies softly after a moment. His body relaxes under her, his fingers continue that delicate dance over her flesh and she tries to ignore the desire pooling between her legs. 

“My father told me on the day I left for the Wall and he left for King’s Landing he would tell me about her when he returned. After he died-” he falters for a moment, “-I haven’t given it much thought since then.” 

Daenerys slipped up his body, resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

He shrugged in response before looking down at her. 

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. 

She knows the Night’s Watch oath, Jon had told it to her once. A part of her is angry at Ned Stark for sending him off to that horrible place before telling him the truth. But it’s another piece that fits in Tyrion's puzzle. Like her great Uncle Aemon Rhaegar's bastard son would have even less of a claim to the Iron Throne if he swore his life to the Night’s Watch. He wouldn't be a threat to Robert's rule. He would be safe from a King that wanted all Targaryens dead. 

“What about before?” she knew she was prodding but she can’t stop herself. Jon shifts slightly under hear and she feels the ever present fear grow. “If you don’t want to-” she started to back track not wanting to ruin their morning together. 

“No, it’s okay”- he paused as if he was collecting his thoughts “-When I was young, before I even knew what a bastard even was, I knew i was different. When Robb or Sansa were hurt or afraid or sad Lady Catelyn would comfort them, hold them in her arms, sing them songs and tell them stories. She-” Jon hesitated a moment, “-was not fond of me and did not lend me that comfort. So I would go to my room or Godswood and pray and dream for a mother that would. Who she was, where she was. What had happened to her.” 

Daenerys pressed herself closer to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “I never knew my mother either, never knew that comfort.” 

She could feel his arms tighten around her slightly, his lips pressing softly against the top of her head. “Did you ever wonder who she might be?”

Jon’s chest rose and a soft chuckle escaped his throat. Daenerys knew it was a stupid question. What boy wouldn’t wonder about the mother he never had. 

“I might have given it a thought or two. Made up stories in my head from the mundane to the absurd.” 

Daenery looked up at him resting her hands on his chest and her chin on her hands. She saw a smile in his eyes and that gave her the courage to push forward.

“Such as?” she asked softly smiling at him. 

“She was probably a farm or tavern girl my father met during the rebellion.” Jon shrugged noncommittally. 

“And the absurd?” she licked her lips. 

Jon closed his eyes, an embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “You promise not to laugh?” 

She shook her head no and grinned back, “I can make no such promise.” 

He rolled her eyes at her. “You must at least remember I was a child,” 

Daenerys nodded at him, but the look on her face told him otherwise. 

“When I would play with Robb we would pretend to be heroes of old. I would always be Daeron the Young Dragon. I would imagine myself as a warrior King.” He sighed with embarrassment, “So I would pretend maybe my mother was a Princess or Queen, and that’s why my father would never speak of her.” 

“A Targaryen?,” Daenerys face dropped slightly but thankfully Jon had looked away in embarrassment as he told his tale. 

A chuckle erupted from his chest, “Yes, A Targaryen Princess, and I was being hidden away so King Robert could not seek his revenge.” Jon sighed, rolling his eyes at himself with a smile. “I was a boy, and did not know the only living Targaryen girls at the time were just a babe and a Queen carrying a child.” 

Daenerys shifted up slightly, sliding her body up against his so she was nearly face to face with him. The look of playful teasing had fallen from her face, replaced with something more somber. 

“What?” Jon asked confused, lifting his hand to run his fingers through her hair as his Queen stared down at him. 

Daenerys closed her eyes and sighed, she shook her head, “Nothing. It’s sweet that’s all. You dreamt of being a royalty and here you are.” she covered. 

She bent down, lightly tracing her lips against his until his mouth parted. She shifted, slipping her leg over his hips to mount him. 

“It might not be so far fetched,” she offered tepidly.

He moaned questionly into her mouth. An enticing sound that sent shivers down her spine, but she needed to know more so she pulled away. 

“My dragons have taken quite a liking to you Jon Snow,” she bent down kissing him, “as have I.” His hands dug into her flesh pulling her closer to his body. “It is said that it takes someone special to ride a dragon.” 

A mischievous look crossed his face and she rolled her eyes at him slapping half heartedly at his chest. He laughed and slid his arms up her body. 

“I have a direwolf. Ghost.” 

“A pet direwolf?” her brow rose, her tone questioning. “I thought they were extinct and the size of horses?” 

“Does the Mother of Dragons not believe me?” he acted offended but the wide smile on his face never left his face. 

She glared playfully at him then knowingly rolled her hips against his watching as his eyes widen slightly and a pleasure filled groan escaped his lips. 

She knew he wanted to roll her over and take her then but she resisted, planting her thighs wide to hold him still. If he truly wanted too he could overpower her but she knows he will not. Not yet. 

“I’ve had him since he was a pup. I have this connection with him-” he pauses, “-it’s difficult to explain but when I’m near Drogon or Rhaegal it feels similar.” 

Daenerys stares at him for a moment before nodding. Her bond with her children was always difficult to explain. It was just there. Maybe it was as simple as that, he had already opened himself to a connection like she had with her dragons. Maybe her fear was unfounded, unwarranted. She hoped but still she needed to know. 

“It is said that only those with the blood of old Valyria can tame a dragon.”

“I would not call what I do taming dragons.” He licked his lips and leaned up to kiss her but she kept her mouth just out of reach. She could not help but notice the way the muscles in his chest and stomach clenched and tightened as he tried to kiss her. She swallowed back her desire to reach out and touch him. 

“A maester would tell you that you had Valyrian blood in your veins. Targaryen most likely.” she offers him the information as easily as she can. She’s baiting him, and it hurts her to manipulate him but she doesn’t know any other way. 

He paused his eyes staring at her for a moment as if he was trying to make sense of what she was saying. After a moment he shrugged, “Perhaps, your family has a wide family tree filled with bastards.” he says before leaning up to capture her mouth with his once again. 

His words are true. Her family had ruled for three hundred years. Countless bastards had been sired, wars had been fought over them, countless people killed. It would not be unheard of some tavern girl being a few bastards removed from the royal family. 

She pulled away, his teeth catching her her bottom lip until she freed herself with a gasp. “We could be related, cousins.” 

He shrugged again, his hand reaching up to tangle into her hair. 

“Would that matter?” she asked softly. 

Jon leaned up again trying to capture her lips but she pulled away. He fell back onto the pillow defeated. 

“That’s a strange question to be asking me now,” he said biting his bottom lip. His eyes traveled down her naked body lingering on her full breasts down her stomach where his hardness was nestled between her legs. 

She felt her body warm at his stare, goosebumps rise over her skin as he traced his thumb over her hip. She leaned down hovering just above him, she shifted her hips sliding him against her slick opening. 

“Would it?” she asked again, almost pleading, needing an answer. “Would anything stop you from wanting this? Me?” her breathing was heavy and she fought to hide the tremble in her voice. 

A growl erupted from Jon’s lips as his hands dug into her ass. He rolled until he was on top of her. “Nothing,” he said hoarsely before he captured her lips. Her legs wrapped around him before she moaned his name and melted into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next and final chapter will be them arriving in Winterfell and Jon finding out. It's mostly finished. So hopefully it will be up quicker than this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than expected. Hope you enjoy. Forgive my terrible grammar!

It had been five days since they had last been together.

As soon as they had arrived at Cerwyn Castle the Northern Lords had swarmed their King as if they were starving men at a banquet. Tyrion had warned them it would happen and it had. A near endless stream of needless questions and requests stole away most of Jon’s day leaving him little time for anything else. 

The Lords argued over petty things like who would be lodged in Winterfell’s great hall, whose men would camp closest to Winterfell’s gate. Who would command which soldiers and who would get a seat at which table. They made requests that only men that didn’t truly believe in the threat they had been warned about would make. They vied to position themselves closer to power and glory and the closer they marched to Winterfell the worse it became. It left Jon and Daenerys no chance of anything more than a few shared lingering looks. 

On Tyrion's advice they had stayed apart. Not wanting to risk a late night rendezvous being interrupted by an overeager Lord. She had got used to Jon sharing her bed, waking in his arms, feeling his warmth. Without him, for maybe the first time in her life, she felt cold. But they both knew Tyrion was right. The Targaryen’s arrival in Winterfell was going to be strained enough as is. They need not complicate matters further.

They had finally arrived at Winterfell a day ago just as the sun had begun to set. Daenerys had watched from afar as Jon embraced his sisters dropping to one knee to cling onto Ayra as if she would vanish as soon as he let go. She stayed back, smiling at him when he looked back at her with tears in his eyes. He was home, with his family. She had waited patiently before she was introduced to the Lords that had gathered in the Winterfell courtyard. 

It had gone as well as could be expected. Wary looks of unease and distrust at both her and her Hand. Lannisters and Targaryens were not well liked in the North and the Northerners did little to hide that fact. She knew they saw her as nothing more than another outsider looking for more lands to conquer, more men to bolster her army. She knew she would prove them wrong. 

It had been then Jon stood beside her, with her, and their judgemental gazes had turned away. The back of his hand had lightly brushed against hers, the first touch she had felt from him in what felt like an eternity. It was a reminder that they were in this together, or so she thought. 

After the formal introductions had finished he had shown her Winterfell. The courtyard that he had spent his youth playing in. The room he grew up in and the room he now resided. The Godswood and the glass garden where fruits and vegetables from all over the known world grew. The crypts where his father and brother now rested. 

He had left her in front of her own quarters stealing a kiss that promised more to come that night. He had left her there and went to meet with his brother Bran. He had not returned. 

She knew all too well the responsibilities of ruling. There were too many things to do. A war to prepare for. Tens of thousands of men to feed and find shelter for. Problems would arise, problems that demanded a King's attention, things that would keep you up all night and away from the things you truly cared about. She thought little of his absence. 

But then he had been distant in their morning council meeting. Rattling off information when requested but otherwise silent, seemingly lost in his own little world. He refused to even look at her. It was then she started to worry. When she approached him later he had been apologetic but curt, telling her something had come up and quickly made his escape leaving her without words. 

Winterfell was supposed to have given them a chance to come back together. Instead it had seemingly torn them apart. She swallowed down the feeling of dread that swamped over her. Had he rethought what had happened between them? Had his home and family turned him sour towards her?

 

Daenerys sat at the head of the table in Winterfell’s great hall. A small feast had been prepared to celebrate their arrival. Jon sat two chairs from her with Lady Sansa sandwiched between them making it impossible for her to reach out to him. She gave him a worried glance as she watched him finish another mug of Northern ale before she turned back and smiled then nodded at Yohn Royce as he rambled on about something she had little interest in. 

Winter was here, food was to be rationed, but for the return of the King they had decided a small celebration would not hurt. Northern Lords were still Lords Tyrion had proclaimed and Lords rarely skipped an opportunity to gorge themselves on food and drink no matter what the occasion. Jon had been against it but had reluctantly agreed at Tyrion and Sansa’s insistence. It was important for morale.

A deer was slain and roasted, basted in honeyed wine. It had been the first fresh meat she had ate since they docked at White Harbor. The tough venison was made tender by the wine and it brought back memories of Vaes Dothrak and the feasts she had ate there. It might have been one of the most delicious things she had ever ate. 

What they lacked in food they made up for with drink. A fact none of the Northmen seemed to mind as they enthusiastically drowned themselves in Winterfell's stores. Jon most of all. 

Daenerys glanced at her Hand who had been flirting with a comely northern women halfway down the table, then over to Ser Davos, his attention was turned to his King. His worried look only cemented her fears. She stole a glance at Jon who was staring intently at the grey Stark banner that hung from the rafters. Her own banner, a three-headed dragon in the Targaryen colors of black and red hung beside it, a sign of solidarity between the two houses. Something was wrong. Her heart fell not knowing what had happened, only that he would not confide in her. 

Maybe she had been wrong about what they shared and he did not feel the same way about her as she did him. She had told him that she loved him but he had yet return the words. She blinked back tears and chided herself for being overly emotional.

She smiled at Royce as he left her company and glanced over again only to see Jon down another mug of ale and exhale heavily before slumping down in his chair. She wanted to simply walk over to him and ask what was going on. Drag him into one these rooms and demand answers but she had promised Tyrion to focus on the war at hand. Show no emotion, no hint of romance in fear the Northern would see her as an invading Queen that had seduced their king. 

She didn't like the idea of lying to these men and she didn't want to hide her feelings for Jon but they had both agreed knowing what was at stake and not wanting to risk petty bickering ruining everything. It could wait until the dead were no longer a threat. 

"Your Grace." 

A new voice tore her attention away from Jon. Most of the Lords in the North had traveled to Winterfell in preparation for the battle to come. Many of them had taken this feast as an opportunity to introduce themselves and pay respects to her. Even if they did not trust her, even if they despised her, the armies she commanded and the two dragons flying above demanded respect or at the very least fear. 

She turned to the man in front of her. He was thin with wispy blond hair and he wore a pensive smile as he bowed his head slightly. He was unlike the other Northmen, his frame slight and wiry compared to the broad-shouldered rugged men that filled the hall. 

"Howland Reed," he offered softly, "The North, all of Westeros, is in your debt for coming to our aid." 

Daenerys smiled, most of the Lords were not nearly as amiable with their greetings. "It's my duty as Queen to protect my people" she replied firmly and stopped herself from glancing over again at Jon. "House Reed of Greywater Watch?" It was more a statement than a question. She had long been taught the houses of Westeros and Tyrion would scold her if she didn't at least put some effort into making nice with the Northern lords she wanted to rule.

"Yes Your Grace," Howland replied evenly. 

"You've always been a strong ally to the Starks," Daenerys said, “and from what I understand you were a close friend of Lord Eddard. I’m told he was a good man.”

Howland nodded and his own eyes drifted over towards where Jon. 

“He was,” Howland replied sadly looking at Jon. “He would have done anything for his family.” 

Daenerys followed his gaze and noticed Jon was finally looking at her. A worried look crossed his face for just a moment before he shifted his gaze to Howland Reed then back to her. There was something in his eyes she had rarely seen from him, fear. He dropped his mug and stood abruptly stumbling slightly before steadying himself against the back of his chair. He kept his eyes down watching his feet and hurried out of the hall. 

Daenerys had to stop herself from standing and chasing after him, instead she smiled back at Howland as he stepped aside making room for the next Lord eager to meet the Mother of Dragons. She turned to glance back at Jon watching him disappear into the Winterfell halls. 

When she turned back Howland was gone replaced by another Lord. Her jaw tightened in frustration. She was tired of this, tired of wallowing in her own despair. She was a Queen not some lovestruck maid. She turned to this new Lord and smiled politely and apologetically. 

“I must apologize, Lord-” she let her words linger making it clear she was asking a question. 

“Flint,” the young man replied.

“I must apologize Lord Flint but you must excuse me,” she stood, and turned, walking away from the man towards where Jon and fled to before the man could respond. 

The hall she had entered led to another, then another. She went to his chambers finding it empty, untouched as if he had not slept there the previous night, her brow furrowed noticing none of his things were even there. She went to his childhood room next only to find nothing. She looked out one of the windows into the courtyard, a steady stream of Lords, Ladies, and servants walked between Winterfell's Great Hall and Keep. Some even loitered outside standing near large outdoor hearths that combined with the hot springs kept the air inside Winterfell’s walls surprisingly warm. She did not see him there nor did she see any tracks in the fresh snow leading into the Godswood. Finally, she went to the crypts finding nothing but the cold stone stares from Ned and Lyanna Stark’s statues. 

She left the crypts with an angry frustrated sigh stopping at the thick ironwood door that led outside. Hidden in the shadows she watched the crowds that lounged in the courtyard, she listened to the jeers and banging of cups emanating from the great hall. 

Winterfell was not what she had expected. Jon had tried to tell her. It housed thousands but it was not the sprawling city King’s Landing or even White Harbor were. Its walls were tall and sturdy but it wasn’t an imposing fortress like Dragonstone. It was warm and inviting, an oasis of heat in the freezing North. It was a home, a place for families and warm memories. 

It was Jon’s home, not hers, and if he did not want to be found-- she sighed heavily and resigned herself to heading back to the great hall when she noticed two red eyes watching her her from across the courtyard. She stepped forward away from the crypts and the eyes followed. 

“Ghost,” she whispered and the direwolf’s head tilted slightly as if it heard her from where it sat nestled in the snow on the far side of the courtyard. Jon had told her of his wolf, his bond with him, finding him as a pup, raising him, taking him to the wall. He had been absent from Winterfell when they had arrived. Probably on a hunt in the Wolfswood Jon had told her with little doubt in his voice. 

Ghost stood and she was taken back by how large the beast was, even from across the courtyard it was an imposing sight. A woman standing near the entrance to the Great Keep startled nearly jumping into the arms of the man she stood beside but Ghost paid no mind as it silently strode into the castle given a wide birth and uneasy looks by everyone near him.

Daenerys pulled her cloak tightly around her and stepped into the courtyard towards the keep and after the direwolf. Unsurprisingly that part of the keep had cleared out, no one wanting to stay too close to the King’s wolf. Two guards stood posted at the entrance but remained silent and vigilant offering a polite head nod in her direction as she entered. 

Ghost was waiting for her, down the hall, his head twisted back watching, red eyes trained at the door she had just walked through. He regarded her for a moment before he moved again.

She followed as the wolf silently stalked through the halls of the keep. The wolf kept a steady pace turning to look back whenever she trailed behind. They stopped outside her chambers and she let out a heavy sigh. 

“This is where you were taking me?” she whispered disappointed. She remembered how Jon had approached Drogon on the cliffs on Dragonstone all that time ago and raised her hand slowly towards Ghosts head. 

The white wolf sniffed her then bowed his head letting her run her hand through his soft fur. She smiled sadly scratching the wolf behind his ear. As much as she wanted to stay she knew she had to return to the great hall. The Lords would talk if both the King and Queen were absent. 

She pulled away and turned back down the hallway only top stop as Ghost moved in front of her. His nose pressing against her stomach his head nearly headbutting her chest forcing her back before he dropped down stretching across the hall blocking her way. 

“Ghost,” she warned but the white wolf simply stared back at her unmoving. He would not let her pass. “As stubborn as your-” she muttered, stopping mid-thought and turned to look at her door then back at Ghost, her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She reached for the door handle and tried her best not to hope. 

 

Her room was meant for visiting royalty, dignitaries and other guests of importance and it showed. It was large with two wide windows that looked out over the courtyard towards Winterfell’s great hall. Multiple layers of finely crafted glass kept the cold at bay but gave a clear view of the going ons of Winterfell. The walls and floor were lined with furs, a large hearth alive with fire dominated one wall. On the opposite side stood a four post bed, soft silks draped over its canopy and covered its feather-stuffed mattress. 

That’s where she found him, sitting on her bed, staring down at the mug of ale in his hand. The fire crackled heavily as if a fresh log had just been thrown on. The room bathed in a warm orange glow, a stark contrast to the cold blue sky outside the window. 

He didn't look up as she entered the room shut and locked the door behind her. She walked to him, standing in front of him for a moment. When he did nothing but stare down at his drink she reached for it and took it from him. She sniffed it, bringing it to her lips for a taste. It was raw and bitter and much stronger than the wines she was accustomed too. Putting it aside she tangled her hand into his soft dark curls.

"You can talk to me," she whispered as she forced his head back to look at him. His eyelids were heavy with drink and he wore a desperate lost look that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. 

His hands wrapped around the back of her thighs and pulled her close and buried his face in her stomach.

“You saved me,” he muttered into her stomach, quietly enough she could barely hear him. This back rose, then fell with a heavy sigh. 

"As a boy I used to dream of being Lord of Winterfell," he admitted softly into her body pausing to take another heavy breath. "Not because I wanted to rule or that I wanted power. I was a bastard--" he words slightly slurred, "--I never belonged anywhere, I wasn’t supposed to be. I thought if I was Lord maybe." 

"Jon," Daenerys whispered, her hand gently running through his soft curls. 

"I could never be a Lord--” he stated firmly, his voice rising slightly. “--so I thought maybe I could find a place in the Night’s Watch. But I never wanted to be Lord Commander. I never wanted to be King. I just wanted to find my place, do something good, help people." 

He looked up at her, "I never wanted a throne, any throne, you know that right?" He asked pleading. 

Dany nodded her head and sank down to her knees in front of him and pressed her forehead against his own. She did not know what had gotten into him, she had never seen him drink so much, never seen him so lost. 

"I wanted to die." 

Daenerys felt a chill run down her spine. 

"Jon," she whispered harshly lifting his chin to look into his eyes. 

"After the Melisandre brought me back. I felt wrong, like something inside of me was missing, empty, hollowed out. It was like when I was young but worse, I did not belong, not at the Wall, not at Winterfell, not anywhere.” He looked down and away from her as if ashamed. “When we took back Winterfell a part of me hoped I wouldn't survive. I wanted to give Sansa back her home but after that I wanted it to end." 

"Don't say that," Daenerys whispered as she felt tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"When we went North, beyond the wall. That emptiness was there with me. Standing on that island I waited and welcomed it. But then you came, you saved us, you saved me." 

"I didn't" she shook her head remembering him sinking under the ice. 

Jon’s grip around her waist tightened.

"When I pulled myself from the water I wasn't thinking of stopping the Night’s King. I wasn't thinking of going home to Winterfell. All I could think about was you. Getting back to you." 

"Jon," Daenerys sniffled cupping his jaw before gently kissing him.

"You saved me. Before anything else happens I need you to know that." 

Daenerys nodded and kissed him again tasting tears on his lips. 

"I love you Daenerys," Jon whispered against her mouth. 

Daenerys pulled back her eyes lighting up and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. But before she could respond Jon leaned down and kissed her. She gasped as he leaned into her passionately invading her space before pulling back breathless. She stared at him for a moment. Torment and sadness still in his eyes. 

"It's okay, whatever it is it will be okay." She asked slipping a stray curl behind his ear as she moved to sit on his lap straddling him. 

“My brother-” he stopped himself and she could feel the slight shudder run through him. “Bran was waiting for me last night with Sam and Howland Reed. He told me-” his hands tightened around her as he was unable to say the words. 

“He lied-” Jon struggled with what to say. “My whole life-” He pressed his head against her shoulder his arms squeezing her tighter. Daenerys could feel his breath heavy against her neck. “I am going to lose everything.” 

Daenerys heart pounded in her chest. His odd behavior, his distance, it all suddenly made sense. He knew. Tyrion had been right. It was true and he knew. Somehow Bran, Sam, and Lord Reed knew and now he did too. They had never seen him fly Rhaegal, never saw his connection to their dragons but somehow they had found out on their own.

He knew. He had not fled, he had not looked at her with disgust in his eyes. He was here now in her room, on her bed, and that was a good thing, a great thing, a hopeful thing. 

“Shh,” she cooed, “It’s okay. I know.” she gripped him as tightly as he her. 

“What?” he murmured into her neck. 

“Rhaegar, “ Daenerys replied softly, “Lyanna. She was here in Winterfell with you the whole time.” 

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy, his face flush. His eyes searched hers. “How?” 

She smiled at him, her hand cupping his cheek, “My children always knew. I wasn’t sure. I wanted to-” she looked down ashamed. 

“Only the blood of old Valyria can tame dragons,” he muttered softly repeating the words she had told him a week ago. 

“I didn’t know how-” she stopped herself feeling her voice waver. She looked up ready to see hate in her eyes but she saw none. “This doesn’t change anything,” she told him firmly, confidently. 

“How could it not?” he whispered back looking away, “you’re my aunt.” 

She could not lose him, she would not. She pressed her body closer to him and pulled his face to look at her. “Do you regret laying with me? Loving me?” she asked as she fought back more tears. 

He shook his head, “No,” he whispered back without hesitation and her heart skipped a beat. 

She rolled her hips into his making him groan. “Do you want me less?” 

He didn’t answer, this time instead capturing her lips with his own, passionately kissing her. She moaned into his mouth, he tasted of ale and tears and she felt her body warm at his touch. His hands slipped to cup her ass and for a moment she thought he was going to roll her over and take her right there but he pulled away with a gasp. 

“When the Northern Lords find out they will never follow me.” he shook his head, “I will lose the North and without the North…” his voice trailed off. Without the North what use would he be to a Queen. Her heart broke for him. 

“Jon,” Daenerys twisted his head back to face her. All this time she had worried she would lose him. “I love you Jon Snow and I will not leave you behind.” 

She laid her forehead against his holding his gaze wishing for him to understand what she said was truer than anything she had said before. A small sad smile tugged on his lips but quickly faded. 

“There’s more,” he said somberly, reaching behind him to pull a book she had not even noticed was behind him. He opened it to a marked page. 

"More?" Daenerys asked wiping the tears from her face, 

"Sam found this at the Citadel. A personal diary of a High Septon." Jon stated plainly looking down at the old tome. He pointed at one of the pages. 

She crinkled her nose as she read about the bowel movements of the religious leader. She looked back at Jon cupping his face. "We could be doing other things than reading about a Septon’s shits." 

A smile, at least a hint of one crossed Jon's face and it made Daenerys heart flutter. It gave her hope. 

"Here," he said pointing to the page. 

"Traveling to Dorne at the Prince's request." Daenerys read out loud softly. "Highly unusual. Prince Rhaegar demands annulment to his marriage. He believes this is an important step to stopping the great war. I cannot refuse, not now." 

Her long dead brother's name caught her attention, she looked back at Jon, "What is this?" 

Jon nodded back to the book. 

"Annulled the marriage between Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell," Dany whispered. "Married Rhaegar Targaryen to Lyanna Stark." 

"Since a boy people have said that Rhaegar kidnapped and raped Lyanna. That was a lie too. They loved each other." Jon added somberly. 

They loved each other, Daenerys repeated in her head. Jon was born from love, not some horrible act. A smile crossed her lips for a brief moment before it fell. They had married. Married. 

She had thought through this situation so many times in her head, so many different ways -- but never that. She tensed, shocked at the realization. 

She felt Jon flinch no doubt feeling her go stiff in his arms. The iron tight grip he had once held onto her with fell away and he pulled back slightly as if giving her means of escape. His eyes left hers, a wounded look crossing his face as if she had plunged another dagger into his heart. 

“Before my Lyanna died she named her son-” he sighed “-she named me Aegon Targaryen.”

“Aegon,” she whispered, “You’re the rightful heir.” 

“What I told you before is true. I want no throne,” he said pleading. 

An uneasy silence filled the room, as Daenerys was at a lack of words. She could hear the heavy beating of her heart in her chest, the soft howl of the winter winds against the windows to her left and the murmuring of people in the courtyard below. 

It was almost enough to make her laugh. Her birthright, it was as much a lie as Jon’s parentage. 

“That's why you should have it,” Daenerys said softly. 

“What?” Jon turned to look at her. 

“With me,” she smiled back at him. “After we stop the army of the dead. March south with me, not as King in the North but King of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

She felt his hands slide back onto her thighs, his thumbs pressing into her hips. He stared at her in disbelief. 

“I--” his brow knotted. 

“You are the best man I know Jon Snow. You are honest and brave and you are willing to do whatever it takes for the good of your people. You are my blood and I love you. Be my King. Help me make this world a better place.” she leaned down kissing him tenderly. Sliding further into his lap so no space existed between them. “Marry me.” 

She felt him nod against her and she deepened the kiss and pressed herself against him. They had gone too long apart, too long without knowing each other's touch. She gasped as he lifted her, rolling them both until he was on top. He hovered above her, a grin on his lips and love in his eyes. 

“My Queen,” he whispered before leaning down and showing her how much he truly did love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, I struggled with this. Rewrote multiple scenes multiple times. Cut out huge chunks that I couldn't get to work. It kinda ended up as a run of the mill R+L=J reveal instead of using Dany knowing before Jon in any meaningful way. Oh well, now I can move onto other story ideas that are stuck in my head. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
